Monday, January 23, 2017

Today The Goddess Finally Speaks:

It's been a veritable ocean of time since I last posted anything to my blog. After the election of Voldemort to the highest office of our land, I have developed a kind of manic schizophrenia, waffling from the world is ending gloom to stay positive/don't let evil get the better of you mindset.  The emotional rollercoaster is not my favorite ride on the midway, but here I am, alternately hanging on for dear life and fearlessly throwing my hands up on the biggest drop.

May you find your voice without losing your mind.  From, The Goddess of Everything.

Saturday, June 29, 2013

Doing Nothing

Today the goddess speaks about herself:

I could be doing anything, and I am doing nothing. Well, next to nothing. I am switching between reading and browsing the internet. I can't seem to move. 

I am reading, The Dovekeepers. It's a book rich in language and imagery. Normally, a novel like that would keep me engrossed until the absolute final page. Not today. 

Tuesday, June 25, 2013

Little Things

Today the goddess speaks about herself:

It's the little things: a ketchup bottle on the couch bespeaks an adult child is living at home. The spouse's dirty laundry on my side of the bed is an alert that he is wanting to be taken care of. And, the dead mouse on the front porch tells me that a cat is requiring praise. 

What little indicators do I leave about? It is much harder to say what messages I leave. I do feel the need to announce every little thing I do. Whether it is for validation, or just an opening for conversation is up for interpretation, I guess. 

I have a mammogram today. Not excited. I have taken three yoga classes in preparation for my first breast squishing visit, as well as, my annual trip inside the MRA machine. That's an MRI for people with metal in their bodies. The noise the machine makes, the feeling of isolation, the artificial light in the hospital, the quiet concern of the staff all set me on edge. I have to carefully practice self-calming throughout the entire procedure even with a prescribed anxiety drug. Ugh. 

My girlfriend is accompanying me to the mammogram. She is going to hold my hand, and reward me with dinner after. It helps. My mom is taking me to my MRA. She will wait, reading old magazines, while I go through my ordeal. I imagine it is also an ordeal for her. What anxiety does she feel being in the hospital where I have received so much bad news with her by my side? Will she be remembering how she went all Shirley MacLaine, in Terms of Endearment, when I needed better pain killers? "Give my daughter her pain pills!! She needs her pain pills NOW!!!" It makes me laugh, now, to think of it, but it must have been horrible for her. Maybe she will think of the last time she went to an MRA follow up and I was told I would need another surgery very soon. She had to stay calm and brave while I completely fell apart. How many years did that age her? Not to mention when the hospital nearly killed my son, and she came prepared to do whatever it took to get him the help he needed. I am so thankful she wasn't present when they almost killed me at the angio.  
I honestly considered not asking her to go with me, but selfishly did anyway. I want my mom at this appointment if my husband can't be there. 

Hospitals. Not my favorite place. I must remember that, in the end, they did save my son. They didn't let me die, and maybe they couldn't help causing this aneurism when they were replacing my valve; the reason I have annual MRAs and another heart surgery in my future. Breathe. 

May you breathe through the scary bits with a loved one at your side. From, The Goddess of Everything. 

Saturday, January 12, 2013


Today the goddess speaks about herself:
It's official. I'm sick. Bring on the chicken soup, and  lemon and honey tea. Where's my mother? Dad used to come home from work, when we stayed home sick, and bring us 7-Up, saltines, and chicken noodle soup. I want THAT.  Oh, yeah, I'm old.  The HFCS in 7-Up spikes my insulin. The gluten in saltines makes me more congested, and the Campbell's we used to eat has MSG that triggers migraines. I miss the 'good old days' of being sick. May your memories make you happy if not well, The Goddess of Everything.

Monday, December 20, 2010

I Don't Get It

Today the goddess speaks about herself:

I don't get it; I really don't. This whole men-o-pause thing. I'm not pausing from men. What if I was never into men? Where does this term come from and why must I acknowledge it? It is time for this goddess to do a little research in this area.
Four months ago I skipped a period. I have never skipped and NOT been pregnant. I have never not known when I was pregnant about thirty seconds after I conceived so..... OK, maybe I played a little denial game with myself for a couple of weeks that first pregnancy, but I KNEW. And, I knew four months ago that I was not pregnant. I played a little game with myself then too. Two months ago I skipped again. The game I played then was the 'maybe this is it, and I'm done with this business forever' game. I really don't know what women are complaining about here. It's not so bad.
Not so bad to have a full beard that I spend hours plucking, shaving, covering and fussing over. Not so bad to retain every ounce of fluid that I take into my body. I really don't know where the liquid for my urine comes from. How can I be this bloated and still pee? I don't get it. I don't. But, it's not so bad. I'm not all hot and sweaty or cranky or whatever it is in all of those magazine articles that I skip past with a nonchalant flick of the wrist because I am too young for that yet.
So, anyhoo... back to the why this name for this condition. Upon referring to my handy dandy etymology handbook I am now clear about the term. It's from the Greek. That is why it is all Greek to me. Ha ha. Get it? It's all Greek to me cause I don't get it? ha ha? Not with me on this one I guess. I've been on the floor for a good five minutes guffawing, but oh well... (This lack of ability to be funny must be the meno thingamajig. My memory's not so good in my condition). Menos=month, pause=pause. Thus, the pause of the monthly cycle. That would explain the off again, on again nature of my monthly 'friend' (I use the term lightly--that's kind of a menses joke there too. Sheesh! Keep up people).
Due to my game playing, something I have done my whole life with my period by never acknowledging that it was upon me each and every month since the middle of 5th grade before I even had a chance to turn 11, my god, so unfair, I was completely in the dark as to why I was carping at my beloved all day, and feeling a bit achy. Two symptoms, I might add, that I also refuse to acknowledge pre-in need of feminine product. It is only after I have moped about, lopping off heads left and right, and Aunt Flo has truly stepped through the door, that I am all... "G.D. F-ing hell, it was the PMS!". It really is unfair that it was all my fault and NOT the sole fault all of the headless people who got in my righteous way. I heartily despise the moment that realization hits and I know that I am going to have to make some kind of reparation. I really, really hate that. At any other time I don't care that much about being right. I don't get it!
Today was another such day. I've been going merrily about my head lopping day with a slight headache. I thought it was from drinking too much coffee, or not getting much accomplished on my 4 days before Christmas and I am nowhere near ready list. But, no. One trip to the Ladies... What a pisser. This shouldn't be called a pause. It should be called an interrupter. The pause is good. The interrupter is what is making me crazy. I would rather be hairy and bloated than cranky and achy. Why don't we call this thing Menointerruptus instead? Also, why can't one of the symptoms be bliss? I don't get it. Why do all of the symptoms have to be so mean spirited?
May peace and blissful ignorance be yours from, The Goddess of Everything.

Monday, June 21, 2010

It's Still Looking A Lot Like Christmas... In June

Today the goddess speaks about herself:

The Christmas music emanating from my CD player is indicative of what my summer break holds for me. The solstice may have been yesterday but you wouldn't know it from the weather outside, nor the cloud hanging over my head inside. My brain, and "OH GOD", my body are ready for a seasonal shift. If the past strewn about the house would just stop nagging at me I could get on with it. I know from experience that unless I deal with things like putting away the Christmas music and stuffing the winter clothes in a trunk I will not be able to fully embrace strawberry shortcake and lazing in the hammock with the newest Janet Evanovich novel.

My job list includes a topic titled, "Little Bits". I have little bits of clutter all over the house that need to be helped along into their proper place. Nearly every room has what I call a clutter corner. The one in the family room has an assortment of magazines, books, and dvds that no one knew what to do with. The corner in the kitchen reminds me of all the things that were broken these past months, with everything from wood glue to a hacksaw peeking out from under old egg cartons, take out menus and piles of greeting cards. Each room is pretty much the same story, different verse.

The clutter creates a stagnant energy all around everyone in the house. It needs to be removed to enervate chi, but it has a paralyzing effect. This catch-22 is hard to get around. I try to tell myself to just power into a project, get it done quickly with some kind of reward waiting for me at the end like a dangling carrot, to no avail. My feet are stuck in an imaginary tar pit. OK, more like my derriere is cemented to the couch... you get the idea, I'm sure. My readers are not idiots.

Why oh why couldn't I have magical powers? It is so NOT fair. I am sure I had them in a past life, that or servants. I keep thinking that I should be able to snap my fingers, and the debris of yesterday will fly into its proper place.

Hmmpf! It's not working. It's not working and my fingers now have a cramp. Well, I CERTAINLY can't put anything away with crampy fingers.

May oblivious housemates and magical thinking be yours from, The Goddess of Everything.

Sunday, April 25, 2010

Stop Projecting Onto Me

Today the goddess speaks about herself:

Yeah, I'm in a crank mood. What about it? You want I should stick my head under my pillow and stay there until I'm in a mood that pleases YOU? Forget about it. I've had it with you people. Me, me, me!

May you have a little respect for those of us who give of ourselves 23/7 from, The Goddess of Everything.